My writing has been stymied as of late. Recent horrible world events weigh heavy on my heart and had dampened my inspiration to write. I needed to allow myself time to reflect and to come to a greater understanding of how bearing witness to such realities can affect my own actions.
It is a common human experience for our hearts to break when we witness of the suffering of others. We want to help make their suffering stop and we feel that we can’t. The emotional impact of this kind of experience can settle in and become unhealthy if left unattended. We can become overwhelmed and experience a sense of helplessness and hopelessness. When we constantly allow our minds to ruminate on thoughts that instill such emotions, we are in no way making any kind of positive difference and we are placing a heavy burden on our hearts.
Whether the situation is one of world chaos and suffering, or something happening personally, if we look for small ways in which we can act, when feeling a sense of powerlessness, it can lessen the hurt. The very idea of taking action brings with it some relief and moves us away from the sense of being held in a place where are are helpless.
There are many ways to act. Some are very obvious acts of solidarity and activism and others are quieter.
For some it’s a deliberate act of stepping back from our emotional entanglement with the devastation we see around us and taking time to quietly connect with our hearts. Allowing the sensation of our emotions to arise within us and acknowledging that the hurt and sadness we feel is real and born out of our compassion, can help lessen our emotional angst and reaffirm our connection with the good inherent in our shared humanity.
We can look for ways in our daily lives to be more kind, bringing with it a sense of joy for others as well as for ourselves. We have an opportunity to lift the spirits of people around us. It’s common to feel burdened by our emotional response to global suffering and feel like our actions can have no impact. Seeing that we can make a difference in another person’s life can help lighten that burden. Creating and sharing joy is an antidote for sadness.
In recent weeks I have found myself in conversations around the unfolding catastrophic world events. All of us bring to conversations our opinions, based on our experience, and it’s not uncommon for us to become heavily invested in those opinions.
Conversations around sensitive topics, when I allow myself to become overly attached to my own opinion, feel very divisive.
Recently mid-way into a debate-like conversation, within a family member who I love dearly, I suddenly became aware of how tightly I was holding onto my point of view, which ran counter to the theirs. It felt wrong. Conscious of how this interaction was dividing us, I stopped, took a breath and named what was happening in the moment. We were actually hurting one another’s hearts as we pursued the need to “make our point”, while debating a topic too grand for either of us to honestly lay claim to possessing pure knowledge of. Once we were able to admit this, and acknowledge what was happening between us in the moment, the energy shifted and the conversation continued in a much more open, compassionate way.
I have been reminded, over the course of these past few weeks, how damaging it can be if I allow my focus to shrink when I become overly attached to my opinion. I have been reminded to bring my awareness back to the moment in order to consciously witness the impact that my words may be are having.
Division is happening all around us, on the world stage and in our one-on-one daily interactions, as we hold tightly to our opinions at the expense of more harmonious and respectful ways of sharing our views. It’s a learned art to be able to sit with our uncomfortable emotions, and share our opinions, while listening to the other with genuine openness, and a willingness to learn. Often we find ourselves in divisive conversation where, had skills like respectful listening been practiced in the earlier, the matter we are discussing may never have come to fruition in the first place. This happens in our personal lives and on the world stage, impeding opportunities for compassionate, positive outcomes.
We will always have catastrophic things happening in our world, and difficulties in our personal lives, and we will form our opinions of such events based on our own experiences. Keeping in mind that we don’t possess clear, unstained knowledge, perhaps we could strive to become more interested in dialogue which allows us to learn and grow, rather than stifling that growth by holding tightly to our opinions.
I may feel that I have very little power to affect change over the enormity of the world’s chaos and suffering. However, by choosing to act with awareness, I can affect compassionate, positive change in my little corner of the world.
I choose to believe that the impact of our small actions expands widely outward like ripples from a drop of water.
I thought might share this from a fellow Cape Bretoner.
This is a sermon that my sister gave at a service several years ago. I thought that with all the strife and grief in our world this is a good time to post this.
Growing up in West Bay Road in the 50’s, if you were a kid life was good. We spent every free minute in the wintertime coasting on Collie Sandy’s hill or skating on Johnnie Heck’s pond. We didn’t have a care in the world. Our family was by no means well off and work was hard to come by. My father had to leave home to work in the North on the DEW line with the American Air force. His return was a time of great joy and anticipation for all the things we could share as a family before he would need to return to his job so far away in Baffin Island and Saglak Bay.
Christmas was always special at our home. It was the one time of year Mom and Dad splurged and bought us heaps of stuff. Mom was an exceptional cook and she made all the Christmas goodies that we loved and still love today. We kids went to the woods with Dad to find the perfect Christmas tree and we were allowed to help decorate it, but Dad had to put the tinsel on, one strand at a time. Money was not plentiful, but we were better off than many families in our small community. One in particular I recall, a Dad, a Mom and an intellectually challenged daughter. The Dad died following a lengthy illness and the Mother (whom I will refer to as Mrs. Mac) and her daughter were left basically destitute. They had a tiny 3 room house, no running water, no electricity and most certainly no money. It was Christmas 1958. My memories are vague about much of my early youth, but this is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday.
I was 8 years old and in a state of euphoria – Dad was home – it was Christmas, there was lots of good food and there were tons of gifts under our beautifully decorated tree, colored Christmas lights all over our little village and the world was perfect, or so I thought. I, like most children at that age thought the Universe revolved around them, and all I thought about was what Santa was going to bring me. Little did I know that my world was about to change dramatically.
Just about dark on Christmas Eve, our parents packed up my little sisters sleigh (you know the wooden ones with the metal runners and the curved back) with all kinds of homemade Christmas goodies, mincemeat pie, shortbread, oranges that Dad brought home, compliments of the American Air Force, Mom’s dark fruitcake (the one with 12 eggs), raisin bread, some ribbon candy and I suspect turkey and the trimmings. Our Mom sold Avon at the time and she wrapped up some lipstick samples (some of you ladies my age and older will probably remember the little white sample tubes and how when we were little girls we loved to play with them) and a small bottle of perfume, probably, To a Wild Rose, or Here’s my Heart or Topaz or one of those terrible scents that Avon sold in those days. The lipstick was for the girl and the perfume for her Mother. They then piled my twin brother and my older sister and I in warm clothes and sent us packing off to Mrs. Mac’s with our sleigh load of food and presents. It was a beautiful night with big fluffy flakes falling and not a breath of wind, what you might call a perfect Christmas Eve. The family lived about ½ mile from our house and we walked excitedly with our precious cargo. (Yes, in those times it was safe to let young children out alone, even at night). When we arrived at the house, there were no Christmas lights only a small dim light was visible through the window from a candle on the kitchen table. We knocked and Mrs. Mac came to the door. She invited us in and we told her why we had come. The house was tiny, but clean and warm. There were no visible signs in the house that it was Christmas Eve but I felt something pulling at me, something I never recalled feeling before that moment in time. We excitedly unloaded the sleigh, handing each package to her which she gently laid on the table. Mom and Dad had warned us to be polite and not to overstay our welcome, so we just stepped inside for a minute. Her daughter, who was sitting in a corner in the kitchen watching us, asked her mother what we were doing there. I remember looking up at her Mothers face and seeing her silhouetted in the candle light with tears streaming down her face. She tenderly put her arm around her daughters shoulder and said “God sent these children here tonight so that we could have Christmas”. Something happened to me that night. I was only a little girl, but my life was forever changed.
I have absolutely no recollection of what I got for Christmas that year, but I never forgot the feeling that came over me that evening so long ago. Our parents taught us a valuable lesson that night, whether it was intentional or not, because as long as my parents were alive they always tried to help out folks who were less fortunate not just during Christmas but all year long. They taught us to share our abundance and we still do. Christmas is still a big event within our family and we go all out with baking and gifts, just as our parents did when we were young and we still support those who do not have enough. I never forgot that Christmas Eve in West Bay Road in 1958 and every day I am so grateful that I have been blessed with a loving family, friends and everything I have ever needed. On Christmas Eve, we always attend worship, no matter where we happen to be and inevitably that Christmas Eve in 1958 sneaks into my mind and those memories come flooding back.
As a footnote to this story, I acquired my Uncle John MacPherson’s diaries (all 41 years of them) after my twin brother passed away in 2001. I finally got around to reading them over the past few years. Every day, he noted the weather and some events of significance in the local area. The passage for December 24, 1958 reads – Cold lovely evening, lots of flurries. D.A. (Uncle John’s brother) just hitched the team to the sleigh with a big load of wood and is on the way to deliver it to Mrs. Mac.
In the words of John Bunyan, the author of Pilgrim’s Progress –
“You have not lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you”
What a lovely Christmas story Heather. This is such a beautiful example of living with purpose – sharing what we have with others in need, not because we expect anything in return, simply because we are following our human nature to love and care for one another. I love the John Bunyan quote; so very true.
How true! I have also felt overwhelmed of late but was fortunate to find a creative outlet which attends my mind and a wish for peace at the same time, quite meditative!
I found some berries, seeds etc in Nature just outside my door and threaded them on a needle and thread, mindfully attaching each one. The result is something akin to a rosary, a mala or a string of prayer beads and certainly made my feelings of helplessness, lessen!
I know there are many different ways to manage the uncertainty and sorrow in our world.
What a beautiful way to work with your feelings of helplessness. It sounds so peaceful. Is that not what we are all looking for – peace?
Heather, your words have jarred me. I, too, feel the despair, powerlessness and hopelessness about the events on the world stage. I say much about the dehumanization of our society due, in part, to the internet and media messages which are dispensed on a moment to moment basis. The warring and chaos, world over, with the resultant death, despair and despondency of millions of people, cannot be denied. In our country, Canada, we are seeing the supporters of warring factions demonstrate on the sidewalks and parks. I am feeling these actions further widen the gaps among us. Yet, for those so motivated to join the demonstrations, perhaps it is their way of managing their powerlessness ?
So, I take to heart your caution about “holding too tightly” to my own opinions and strive to practice compassionate listening. This applies to my “world”, everyday, wherein I pray to make a positive impact, like the ripples of water you describe.
Thank you Sandra for your comment. I can’t help but think when I look out onto the fighting and neglect that is happening in our world, how much of it could have been avoided if those in power could stop holding on so tightly to what they believe is best and actually communicate with an open heart. We have very little power over such things. I believe our real power exists in how we choose to engage with those closest to us.